Bound by Night

by Amanda Ashley

  Munching on a slice of bread smothered in butter and honey, she wondered if he ever missed real food—meat and potatoes, fresh peas and corn, hamburgers and hot dogs, potato salad, freshly baked bread warm from the oven, cakes and cookies, pie and ice cream, grapes and strawberries, malts and sodas and all the other good things to eat and drink that she took for granted.

  She lingered at the table, her thoughts drifting. She wondered how long Drake was going to keep her here. Now that she knew what he was, would he ever let her out of the castle again? Take her to the city again?

  She lifted a hand to her throat. He had admitted to tasting her. Was that why he kept her here? How much was “a taste”? How could she sleep through such a thing?

  So many unanswered questions. She pushed them out of her mind. She would think about all that later. Right now, she was going back outside.

  Rising, she headed for the garden, the cat at her heels.

  Muttering, “Silly beast,” Elena made her way toward the iron bench. Grabbing her gloves, she pulled them on while she regarded the ground she had cleared earlier. It looked barren now.

  Returning to the shed, she found a shovel and began to dig up one of the rosebushes, intending to replant it in the newly turned plot of ground.

  She dug a wide hole around the bush, then reached down and gently pulled the roots out of the earth. A bit of blue-and-white striped cloth was tangled in the roots. Taking hold of the cloth, she gave it a yank. . . .

  And screamed when a desiccated hand appeared, tangled in the material.

  Elena stared at the skeletal hand and at the small blue stone ring on one finger for several seconds, then dropped to her knees, retching. Jenica had been wearing a dress made from that very same cloth the last time Elena had seen her.

  Smoke padded up beside her. The cat took one look at the contents of the hole, hissed softly, and ran into the castle.

  Moments later, Drake appeared at her side. “Elena, what is it?”

  She looked up at him, sobbing, then pointed at the grisly find. “It’s . . . it’s . . . Jenica. . . .”

  Lifting Elena to her feet, Drake drew her into his arms. He didn’t have to look into the hole to know what was there. The stench of death and decay was sharp in his nostrils. “Are you sure it is her?”

  “She . . . when she ran away . . . she was . . . was wearing a dress made out of that same cloth. Uncle Tavian,” she said, hiccuping, “he bought her the dress for her birthday. And the ring . . . it was a gift from her mother.”

  “Come inside and sit down.”

  She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Come inside,” he repeated, leading her toward the back door. “I’ll unearth the rest of the remains. We need to make sure it is your cousin.”

  After settling Elena on the sofa and covering her with a blanket, Drake returned to the garden. In his five hundred years, he had seen death in all its forms and he studied Jenica’s corpse dispassionately. An examination of the body showed she had died of a broken neck. He frowned as he detected Dinescu’s scent on the body. It proved nothing, of course. She had lived in the man’s house.

  Squatting on his heels, he recalled reading in the local paper that there had been speculation that Jenica Dinescu had eloped with one of the neighbor boys. He remembered Jenica as being a quiet, frightened child, too timid to run away from home. Odd that Elena had never mentioned that her cousin had eloped. Drake grunted thoughtfully. Was the boy also buried here?

  Rising, Drake brushed the dirt from his hands as he debated what to do with the body. There weren’t a lot of options. He could rebury it here, wrap it in a blanket and take it to Dinescu to gauge his reaction, or drop it off at the local undertaker.

  Drake shook his head. As callous as it sounded, it mattered little to him who had killed the girl. Except for Elena’s well-being, he rarely took any interest in what went on in human affairs. At the moment, he had far more important things on his mind—like how he was going to explain to his sire why he had violated one of the Coven’s most basic laws.

  One thing was for certain, he couldn’t leave Jenica’s body lying out in the open while he made up his mind. Using his preternatural strength, he quickly dug a hole six feet deep, wrapped the corpse in a length of burlap he found in the shed, and reburied the body. He would let Elena decide what to do with the grisly find after they returned from the Fortress.

  Elena looked up when Drake entered the room. “Was it . . . ?”

  “I am afraid so.”

  “Why would anyone want to hurt Jenica?” Elena dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  He shrugged. “Who can say why people do what they do?”

  Elena stared at him, ashamed of what she was thinking. He lived in the castle. He was a vampire. Vampires drank human blood. . . .

  “You think I did this?”

  “I . . .” A guilty flush stained her cheeks.

  “I did not kill her.”

  “I’m sorry for thinking that you—”

  He brushed her apology aside with a wave of his hand. “Considering what you know about me, I cannot blame you.”

  “We need to find whoever did this! He could live in our town. We have to stop him before he kills someone else.”

  “We will. But not now.”

  “Not now?” She stared at him in disbelief. “If not now, when?”

  “I have something I must attend to, something that cannot be postponed any longer.”

  “I don’t believe what I’m hearing! What can be more important than finding out who murdered my cousin?”

  “Explaining to my sire why I disobeyed the law of the Coven and married a mortal.”

  Chapter 12

  “Coven?” Elena stared at Drake. “I don’t understand.”

  “My sire wants to see me. I cannot refuse.”

  “What does that have to do with your marrying me?”

  “It is forbidden for us to marry mortals.”

  “Why?”

  “Relatively speaking, we are small in number. Only the oldest males can father children, and then only for a short time. Thus, my father has arranged a marriage for me.”

  Elena stared at him in disbelief. “You married me when you were engaged to someone else?”

  “Yes, in a manner of speaking.”

  “Who is she?”

  “I do not know.” He sat beside her, one arm stretched along the back of the sofa. “All I know is that her name is Katiya and she is fertile.”

  “He expects you to marry someone you’ve never met?”

  Drake nodded.

  “Then why did you agree to marry me?”

  “Because you asked me.”

  Elena shook her head. “What’s the real reason?”

  “Because you are beautiful.” He stroked her cheek. “And because I have no wish to wed and bed a woman of my father’s choosing. I am hoping that the woman he has chosen for me will be offended when she learns I have wed a mortal and that her parents will dissolve the betrothal.”

  “Can’t you just refuse to marry her?”

  “No.” His gaze moved over her face. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “What kind of favor?” she asked suspiciously.

  “I promised you I would not consummate our marriage against your will, but if my father finds out that our marriage is only a charade, he will insist that we end it.”

  “And if I refuse to . . . consummate?”

  “I will take you back to your uncle before I leave,” he said calmly. It was an empty threat. He would cut off his right arm before he sent her back to Dinescu.

  “That’s blackmail!”

  “Indeed, it is. But we need be intimate only once.” He winked at her. “Unless you wish otherwise.”

  She glared at him. Did he truly expect her to sleep with him when he was engaged to another woman? She had thought he was being kind when he’d agreed to marry her. She should have known better. Should h
ave known he had his own selfish reasons. It was her own fault. Secretly, she had hoped he cared for her a little. What a fool she had been.

  “If you will do this for me, I will find out who killed your cousin when we return. And if you no longer wish to be my wife, I will give you this castle and the means to support yourself for the rest of your life.”

  Elena gazed into his eyes. If she refused, would he take her by force? She bit down on her lower lip. He was a vampire. As attractive as he was, as much as she yearned for his touch, how could she agree to let him make love to her?

  He had shared her bed, slept at her side. But now he was asking for more than that. Much more. How could she give herself to a man who didn’t love her? A man who wasn’t a man at all?

  “Elena?”

  “I can’t decide now.” She clasped her hands together, then shook her head. “I need time to . . . to think about it,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

  Rising, he took her hand and kissed her palm. “Then I will leave you to it, my lady wife.”

  Elena stared after him. If he gave her all of eternity to make up her mind, she doubted it would be time enough.

  A thought took Drake out of the castle. Standing on the steps, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his mind turning, as always, to his bride. He had thought of little but Elena since that first night when he discovered her asleep on the sofa in front of the hearth. Elena. He had agreed to give her time to make her decision when, in truth, he had already made it for her. Even if Rodin decided to destroy him for breaking the law of the Coven, his sire wouldn’t take his anger out on a helpless female. At worst, Rodin would wipe any and all memories of vampires, especially Drake, from Elena’s mind and send her back home.

  He cocked his head to the side as his preternatural hearing picked up the sounds of Elena climbing the stairs, going into her room, pacing the floor. He considered waiting until she was asleep, then hypnotizing her so that she would give him the answer he wanted. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but if it did, so be it. He would do whatever was necessary.

  He left her alone until she was asleep, and then he materialized inside the bedroom. After undressing, he slid under the covers, slipped his arm around her shoulders, and drew her close, reveling in the warmth of her slender body, the silky feel of her hair trailing over his shoulder.

  Murmuring, “Good night, wife,” he kissed her cheek, then ran his tongue along the side of her throat, teasing himself with the taste of her skin, the scent of her blood. A small sip satisfied his thirst and he closed his eyes, thinking how pleasant it was to drift into the dark sleep with the taste of Elena on his tongue.

  Elena woke with a sigh. Eyes still closed, she stretched her arms out to her sides. And realized, with a start, that she wasn’t alone in bed. A glance to the left showed Drake lying on his back beside her. What was he doing here? On those nights when he had shared her bed, he had always been gone in the morning. Maybe he was dead. Really dead. Was that possible?

  Sitting up, she poked his shoulder. “Drake?”

  “Yes, wife?”

  “Nothing. What are you doing here?”

  “It is my bed.”

  “I know, but you’ve never been here in the morning. I assumed you spent the day in your”—she took a deep breath—“in your coffin.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I do not like it there. It is very confining.”

  She stared at him, thinking this was the most bizarre conversation she had ever had. “So, why are you here today?”

  “I need your decision.”

  “You said I had time to think it over.”

  “I am afraid time is up.”

  “So soon? You just told me about this last night.”

  “We are expected at the Fortress tomorrow night.” He looked up at her. She was staring at him, her eyes wide. “Sorry, wife, but I will need your decision this evening.” He sat up, the sheet pooling in his lap. “You have all day to think it over.” Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her lightly. “I hope you make the right decision.” He kissed her again, longer this time, then slid out of bed.

  And disappeared.

  Elena stared at the place where he had been standing only a moment before. How had he vanished so quickly? And where on earth had he gone?

  And what was she going to do?

  She had no appetite for breakfast, no interest in reading. And certainly no interest in working in the garden. Just thinking about it made her shudder. Why would anyone murder Jenica? Her cousin had been a sweet-natured young woman, understandably a little timid and withdrawn. There had been times when Elena had wished Jenica would help out with the housework instead of cowering in her room.

  Elena fell back on her pillow and stared up at the ceiling. How had she ever gotten into this mess? To consummate or not, that was the question.

  She frowned as the cat jumped onto the bed and curled up on Drake’s pillow.

  “I really don’t have any choice, do I?” Elena muttered. “I can either let Drake claim his husbandly rights, or I can . . .” She really had no other choice.

  Smoke’s ears twitched, as if he was thinking it over, and then he answered with a loud “meow.”

  Elena absently stroked the cat’s head. Bedding Drake probably wouldn’t be so bad. He had been kind to her. He was incredibly handsome and yes, sexy. She had reveled in his kisses. She had yearned for more. In fact, he would be very nearly perfect—if only he wasn’t a vampire! How was she supposed to get past that? If he had been human, the decision would have been so much easier.

  Eventually, hunger drove her downstairs to the kitchen. She made a ham and cheese sandwich and ate without really tasting it, her thoughts on what would happen when the sun went down and Drake appeared. Her biggest hope was that he would be gentle with her.

  Smoke, who had followed her into the kitchen, hopped up on the table and meowed loudly. To Elena, the sound was oddly reassuring.

  She sat at the table, deep in thought, long after she finished eating. Now that she had made the decision to do as Drake wanted, she wished to get it over with as soon as possible. She had once heard a lady comedian doing a monologue about sex. One of the things she advised women to do when having sex was close their eyes and think of something else. Yeah, right. How on earth was she supposed to think about anything else at a time like that? Especially when it was her first time?

  Elena returned to the main hall, the cat at her heels. When she curled up on one of the sofas, Smoke stretched out beside her, his paw batting her hand until she gave in and stroked his head. It was relaxing, lying there with the cat purring softly at her side.

  She woke with a start when the cat hopped off the sofa and left the room.

  A glance at the window showed the sun was setting. And then Drake was striding toward her, and the time for decision making was over.

  Elena sat up, her gaze moving over him. He wore black jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt open at the collar, the perfect foil for his long black hair and midnight blue eyes.

  “Good evening, wife.”

  She swallowed hard. “Drake.”

  “I trust you have made your choice?”

  “Do I really have one?” she asked with some asperity.

  He smiled at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “One always has a choice.”

  “I’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

  “You say that like you think it will be distasteful.”

  “Maybe it will,” she replied flippantly. “I’ve never made love to a vampire.”

  “Or anyone else,” he reminded her.

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “How do vampires make love?”

  “The same as everyone else,” he said with an amused grin. “Why not wait until the foul deed is over before you judge me? You might find it enjoyable.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I will never lay a hand on you again.”

  “Why should I
believe you? You promised you wouldn’t demand your husbandly rights, yet you are about to ravish me.”

  He laughed again. “Fair Elena, I am demanding nothing of you. Only asking. Would you like it better if I begged?” And so saying, he dropped to one knee in front of her. “Please, my lady wife, I need you to do this for me.”

  With a sigh, Elena rose from the sofa. Taking his hands in hers, she urged him to his feet. Her heart was pounding like a drum at a rock concert when she led the way up the stairs to her bedchamber. Never had the climb seemed longer, or her bed smaller, than it did as she stepped into the room.

  Once there, she came to a halt. The next move was his.

  “Elena.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “Trust me, wife. I will not hurt you.”

  She nodded. She had to believe him. It was too late to turn back now.

  She shivered when he tugged her T-shirt over her head. His fingers were cool against her skin, his tongue warm as he laved the side of her neck. That quickly, she wanted him, wanted to know the secrets only he could reveal, discover the mysteries and differences between a man and a woman.

  She trembled as he removed her jeans, her bra and panties, but couldn’t deny the feminine thrill of satisfaction she felt when he looked at her.

  “You are truly beautiful.” His words confirmed the admiration she read in his eyes.

  She slid under the covers when he began to undress. Her first instinct was to look away, but that seemed foolish. She had seen his naked backside. . . . She swallowed a rush of panic. But not the front.

  Her gaze moved over him from head to foot, quickly the first time, and then more slowly. He was beautiful, with eyes the blue of a midnight sky and long black hair that fell past a pair of broad shoulders. His arms and legs were well muscled, his body lean and firm, his stomach hard and flat. And he had an arousal that would have done a stallion proud.

  He smiled at her, his expression one of utter male arrogance as he slid under the covers beside her and drew her close, aligning her body with his so that there was nothing between them.